WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BROADCAST FOR POWERFUL BBC

Radio Record, 9 December 1938, Page 19

WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BROADCAST FOR POWERFUL BBC

Young Englishman Donald Cowie. whose book, N.%. From Within."’ won him mueh prestige both here and in Britain, writes this article specially for the "Record"

BBC contract a long time, but characteristically when _: it did come there was no more time to be wasted. ‘‘Could you write a script to be broadeast in ‘The World Goes By’ programme tomorrow night?’’ asked a polite young man over the telephone; and. thenceforward I had to wrap a wet towel round my head and hope for the best: Perhaps I had better spare you a detailed account of the next few hours of feverish tapping at the typewriter and interminable rehearsals of the result before an anxiously critical wife. Radio Magazine But it might be of interest to describe the actual preparation and broadcasting of this famous BBC weekly feature called ‘‘The World Goes By.’’ It is officially labelled a ‘‘radio magazine’? and consists, as a rule, of about five short talks by experts and raconteurs on topical subjects, introduced by that very popular pioneer announcer and commentator, F, H. Grisewood. The programme is given every Wednesday evening, and is similar to ‘‘In Town Tonight,’? but more serious and authoritative in content. It -oceupies thirty minutes. I was told to write about 750 words on unusual features of sheep-farming in New Zealand, audi bring the result along to Broadcasting House, W.1., at 12.30 p.m. Up The Lifts QN the Wednesday, I was taken up silent lifts and along futurist corridors to a little talks studio, a silent room like the study of a Victorian politician, with many bookshelves of imitation books, a heavy desk, a massive swivel chair and-a microphone. After some minutes a youngish, quict-spoken man entered and introduced himself as Mr. Pringle, organiser of ‘‘The World Goes By." This was somewhat surprising, for like many others I’d always imagined that Grisewood had been responsible for the feature. | HAD been waiting for that

But I soon discovered that Mr. Pringle was very much the brains behind the enterprise. He deserves a wider fame. The care he took over the preparation of our talks for that evening was an eye-opener. In my instance, he was chiefly critical of passages that would not be readily understandable to English listeners unacquainted with New Zealand conditions, I had two rehearsals before the mike, and was then told to come along at six o’clock for the ‘‘linking rehearsal,’’ THIS took place in the actual ‘‘World Goes By’’ studio, a long, high, but narrow room apparently lined with cork. A grand piano and portable effects cabinet stood at one end; a gramophone turn-table dominated the other end; and

there was a big loud-speaker at the side. Overhead, at the top of one wall, was a gilassed-in compartment for the controlling producers, rather like the gun-turret of an R.A.F. bomber. Down the middle of the room six small tables like cardtables were placed back to back, covered with grey baize, supporting three wire-net type microphones, and surrounded by six tube-framed chairs. WE seated ourselves at these tables in order of our appearance in the programme, the first table being occupied by Grisewood. Then we each read through our talks. It was a gruelling experience, especially for the last speakers, as you had to wait

while the others said their piece, and when they obviously got nervous the feeling transmitted itself to you, and palms began to itch painfully, But the initial ordeal was soon over, and Mr. Pringle reappeared from the control room to announce that all the speakers were satisfactory. Here were our contracts, and would we return for the final performance at ten minutes to eight? We waiked away chatting to each other, and! learnt with Interest that one of my fellow speakers was David Seth-Smith, the famous "Zoo Man," and with still greater Interest that he was related to the Seth-Smiths of Christchurch. ‘T’ve never been to New Zealand," he said, "but I understand you have no indigenous mammals left, and all your interesting native birds have been exterminated!" Another speaker was an old man who’d accompanied the first. English Rugby team to South Africa as a three-quarter, and who told me he could remember the first Maori team coming to London years ago.

Other talkers were A. G. Street, the novelist and broadcaster on farming conditions, and the Secretary of the Royal Horticultural Society, who spoke on the Chelsea flower show. Once out of sight of each other we ail surreptitiously opened our contracts, and i was gratified to iearn that I was to recelve five guineas for my fiveminutes contribution. And they’d always told me that the BBC didn’t pay welll Zero Hour HEN came zero hour. We all trooped back to the studio at ten to eight. An announcer came in and sat opposite me. Hven Grisewood, a tall, serious-looking man, seemed conscious of tension. He said: "It makes you feel as if we're all sitting in an examination room." . The thumping of my heart was abominable. How could I ever achieve that necessary, easy conversational style in these circumstances? ‘ The announcer had been playing the fool, but suddenly his face darkened, and he raised an imperative hand. A-red light shone on the wali. "Silence, please!" he commanded, and then: "This is the Regional Programme. ‘The World Goes By, a weekly...."

The Cue The ball was tossed to Grise@e wood, and in a delightful, easy voice he began his introduction. The first speaker. The second. The third, relayed from Plymouth. But at Jast-New Zealand! (The cue is, "Mr. Cowie"). "Mr. Cowle," and the .awful pit gaped before me. i began. TH a shock of surprise I heard my own voice speaking quite clearly. [ gained — eonfidence. I took heart. The words jumped out, Discreet laughter from Grisewood at a joke. Success! I wonder? Elation But I do know that I left Broadcasting House that evening with the feeling that I had just won the Derby at least. Such a child can the BBC make of the most experiencescarred among us all,